


Fire in Your Eyes

by doublejoint



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gossip Girl Fusion, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:42:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21798529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doublejoint/pseuds/doublejoint
Summary: Saying he’d just been thinking about Taiga is something out of a TV show, but it’s true, and Taiga would probably be happy to hear that.
Relationships: Himuro Tatsuya/Kagami Taiga
Kudos: 3





	Fire in Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> this is set in the late 2000s-ish (so around the time the later gg books were published) and im still not sure who plays basketball in this universe and who doesn't lmao
> 
> happy belated kagahimu day
> 
> talks about blisters on feet for a bit

The holes in Tatsuya’s trouser socks are in all the right places for his uniform loafers to rub against his skin. He’s halfway to blistered and he can feel the drag of worn-out quote-unquote man made material with each step. Fuck. He’s got a spare pair of athletic socks in his bag, but his basketball shoes are still in his locker back at school (it’s too late to go back now; it’ll be all locked up and he’s nearly at the subway anyway). Now that he’s aware of the blisters, they really fucking hurt; he’s not at the end of the block before he tucks himself between a phone booth and one of those plastic dispensers that has free magazines. Tatsuya kicks off his loafers and stands on top of them before dropping the backpack from his shoulders, rifling through pencils and notebooks and candy wrappers before he finds them tucked into a cardboard beverage sleeve.

There’s a hole in one of the heels, but that’s alright; he’s already slipping off his uniform socks. As they peel away, exposing his feet to the cool and damp air, he bites back a hiss. It’s not too bad, really. The old socks get tossed into the bag, and the cup sleeve after; he’ll remember to stick them in the laundry at some point, or maybe just throw them out. (His father’s disapproval echoes in his head, admonishments about not wearing socks in the house because they’ll get holes quicker.) 

When Tatsuya was still in middle school, before he and Taiga had had that fight--a few months before, just as they’d really started to drift apart, they’d gone to a classmate’s bat mitzvah together. Taiga’s dad was supposed to send a car to pick them up after and take them both back to his place, but it hadn’t shown up and they’d left the venue along with the other stragglers, most of whom lived in the area and would walk home or hail a cab and pay with their parents’ cash. Taiga had called his dad just to check, left a message when he didn’t pick up, and then slipped his flip phone back into the pocket of his slacks, left on vibrate. 

There are plenty of basketball courts on the Upper West Side, probably had been even more back then (and Tatsuya’s aware of how little time has passed in total, four or five years, but that’s a good chunk of his life and a greater chunk of the part of life he remembers, so like, relatively speaking), so it’s not surprising that there was one a few blocks away. It was close enough that if the car had come and called Taiga’s phone they wouldn’t leave the driver waiting too long, and Tatsuya had brought his backpack, coming straight from basketball practice with his hair still wet from the shower as he’d slipped into the back of the synagogue, his half-worn-out ball still inside. Playing in tight fancy shoes, shirtsleeves rolled up, hadn’t erased the difference in their skillsets at all. It had highlighted it in bright yellow like the words in a secondhand textbook that don’t seem significant to Tatsuya when he reads them. Taiga can jump like he’s wearing moon shoes, and Tatsuya sinks like there’s led holding down his heels. Tatsuya had only tried one J before consciously stopping himself, stickinbing to the ground and lobs closer shots because he didn’t want to mess up the techniques he’d worked so hard to perfect.

Taiga’s phone had finally rang and the driver was apologizing for being late but he’d gotten stuck in traffic (on a Saturday afternoon?) and Tatsuya had stuffed the ball back into his bag and then his hands into his pockets, promised Taiga they’d pick the game back up later but they never had. Probably for the best, anyway; Tatsuya had been so far behind already, and his feet had taken weeks to heal up. 

These shoes are more forgiving with the right socks, and Tatsuya’s got a better vertical now, even in the leather-soled Prada loafers that Wei had lent him that he claimed he just hadn’t gotten around to throwing out yet. He’d be up for a one on one now, under the right circumstances, or at least for sprinting up the steps to the train. 

(It’s dark out. He has reams of stupid homework that he will never get done between the subway tomorrow morning and surreptitiously in the back of first period, pretending to take notes; he’s got to at least turn in something that looks like he’d tried. But they’re a week and change away from winter break, and it’s twenty degrees above freezing, so if the chance were to arise--well.)

Tatsuya pulls on his loafers and zips up his backpack, slipping his arms under the straps and adjusting the weights. Ahead of him, he hears footsteps pounding the pavement and looks up, preparing to get out of the way of an overzealous runner or a group of kids caught up in some game. Making out the person (singular, Tatsuya’s pretty sure) in the light thrown out by apartments and the few open pizza places and barbershops on both sides of the street, but they turn toward him and stop, and, oh. It’s Taiga.

His face breaks out into a smile; he’s panting as if he’d just been in non-stop game action, outnumbered and in the center of every play for ten minutes. 

“Tatsuya! I knew I’d missed the end of your practice, and I thought…” he coughs. “I thought you’d be gone by now but I checked the subway platform so I thought it could have run over or you’d have to stay back.”

“You could have texted me.”

“Forgot my phone,” Taiga says. “Anyway, hi.”

Tatsuya nearly laughs. Saying he’d just been thinking about Taiga is something out of a TV show, but it’s true, and Taiga would probably be happy to hear that. 

“Hi, Taiga.”

Taiga drops his arm around Tatsuya’s shoulders. “I wanted to see you, anyway. I know it’s a Thursday, but if I can at least take you home…”

“Stay for dinner,” Tatsuya says. “If you can.”

It’s a little unfair of him, maybe, to bait Taiga like this, but it’s unfair of Taiga to touch him so casually, to keep his arm around Tatsuya’s shoulders, the arm of his school blazer touching Tatsuya’s neck where it should be exposed to the air, on a Thursday when they won’t have enough time to play ball or space alone to really do anything. Sometimes, a lot of the time actually, Tatsuya hates that they’d gone to different high schools, in the same borough but far enough away from each other that they might as well not be. 

(Though they’re close enough to do things like this, far enough to avoid each other when they’d been fighting, and that had been a necessity, though they’ve long since outgrown it.)

“Remember that one-on-one after Isabel’s bat mitzvah?” Tatsuya says.

“Can you call it that?” says Taiga.

Tatsuya angles his face so he’s looking up (fuck, he hates that Taiga’s this much taller than him, growing faster). “Whatever. But, I never properly conceded.”

“Does it matter?” says Taiga.

Tatsuya’s treading around sensitive territory for both of them here. There’s a slight edge to Taiga’s voice like an exacto knife that hasn’t been totally closed up; Tatsuya gives a slight nod.

“Just thinking about it. Anyway. How was your practice?”

“Short. Mostly drills, no scrimmage.”

He makes a face. Tatsuya can’t say he doesn’t relate. 

“Game tomorrow, though.”

“True.”

He’s already thinking about his opponent; Tatsuya can tell from the shift in his expression and the way his walk slows down ever so slightly..

“Just make sure to get some sleep, okay?”

Taiga scowls, but he can’t keep the face for long. “I don’t stay up all night anymore…”

“Sure.”

He squeezes Tatsuya’s shoulder.


End file.
